


Daddy Issues

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Costume Kink, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Fuck Or Die, Humor, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Fiona have to convince a deadly slave trader that they’re a married couple who’re as kinky as he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy Issues

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Trope Bingo: Prompt: Fuck or Die

The corner of Sam’s mouth quirked at Fiona’s high-pitched Brooklyn accent. She stood in the light pouring from the bathroom, wearing a parody of a schoolgirl’s outfit – high-pinned plaid skirt, a white blouse tied off at the waist and showing lacy peek of red bra, boosting her little assets toward the stratosphere, white socks and pigtails. Sam turned from his position at the writing desk and let out an appreciative whistle. “Nobody’s got your gum, baby, but I think you’re smuggling something.”

“What?” More pouting, and this time she twisted her fingers around the dark locks spinning 

“I dunno….” He dragged out the word, abandoning the chair he’d been using. Fleetingly he thought that this was a pretty swanky set-up for a small-time hood. “A hot pie. Some cling peaches, maybe?” Fi was within touching distance now, but his fingers caressed her cheek. Her tongue slipped out from between her red lips and slid along the edge of his thumb. 

She kissed the pad and leaned back enough to capture his eyes. “So what? Do you wanna frisk me?” she pouted, reaching for the skirt’s minimal hem and sidling it up the length of her panties. They were plain cotton with lace at the hem – never let it be said that Fiona Glenanne didn’t commit one hundred percent to the role.

Sam kept touching her, but deliberately made his caresses annoyingly light, so that she’d shift and sigh under his stroking hand. It finally came to rest upon her breast.  
“Take them out,” he ordered.

“Mmm-uh,” she taunted. “Have to make it worth my while, daddy.”

Sam pretended annoyance - he glanced briefly over his shoulder at the pinpoint-sized red light glowing from the golden picture frame mounted just over the desk and felt a wave of relief. The two-way camera was fully operation, but little did their friend on the other side know that their little show was mostly a game. Their quarry was a pornographer holding a group of Russian mail order brides hostage – to get them out, Sam had to play prospective harem buyer. Fiona was his New York concubine with a Russian background, the convincingly docile wife who wanted nothing more than to please the mam. In reality, she had plans to cave Andre Jablonsky’s head in at the nearest opportunity.

Well, if he wanted a show, he’d get one. It wasn’t as if he and Fiona hadn’t fucked before, when he was between girlfriends and she was pissed at Mike. It was always when they were officially broken up – never let it be said that Sam Axe didn’t have some sense of morality. It was sadder now, if he actually took a moment to think about it; Fi had lost both Mike and Carlos, and Elsa had a pool boy on the side. They only had their familiarity, but he’d clung to smaller bits of hope before. Jablonsky would shoot them both in the head and throw them in a harbor instead of letting them live. A couple of quick orgasms with a close friend versus a bullet in the head – only an idiot would pick the latter.

“Where?” Fi stage-trilled, tugging her blouse open to fully expose her bra-covered breasts. 

“Oh,” he said into her neck, his fingers sliding up the shelf of her bra to cup her breast and tweak her nipple. Fi shivered, and he unclasped the bra, “these feel pretty fresh, if I do say so. Smuggling peaches, baby?”

“Mmm. Do it again,” she demanded. 

“Nuh,” he said. His big palm slid over her flesh under the bra, caressing as it went. “Take it off.” Fiona did as he asked, her hand trembling perceptibly under the strain of keeping herself upright. Sam dropped onto the bed, then patted his knee. “Sit. Time for your frisking.”

Fiona’s knees knocked together as he walked over to Sam, then sat on his knee, legs primly together. He immediately reached for her breast and began to gently knead it while his left hand worked up and down her thigh, across her trembling belly, to her ribcage and up toward her tensely-splayed hands.

Fi’s birdlike weight listed backward into his chest, and she let out a trill as he pinched the tip of one nipple, then switched to the next. A toss of her head glued a pigtail to his sweaty chest.

Sam’s contentment was finite, and his mouth longed for use, so he stopped touching her entirely. Fi was too short to properly suckle from this position. “I think you need an oral examination now,” he declared, turning her ‘round in his arms, only to find himself in her embrace. A full-out make-out session began, their tongues entangling and tickling against one another, followed by her shoving him onto his back.

Her enthusiasm did wonders for his cock, but this didn’t match their cover. “Fi,” he hissed and she rolled her eyes, sitting up straddling his lap.

“Do you want me like this, daddy?” she tugged at the end of her pigtails and snapped her gum.

“I want to suck on your tits, princess,” he replied, rolling her over and immediately fastening his mouth to her breasts. And it was great – she was a hell of a soft-skinned, good-smelling woman, and Sam wanted to linger there forever. A lesser man would have whined about their size, but Sam was no fool; they were soft and sensitive, and her responsive nipples were velvet-sweet against his tongue.

She whimpered and moaned, keeping him pinned tight to her chest, refusing to relinquish her grip for a moment. Dragging him to her other breast, Sam repeated his treatment, teasing her with the tip of his tongue before leaning back in to suckle her back into his mouth.

His hand journeyed on, slid under the waistband of her panties, and his eyebrow quirked upward. Fiona was wet enough to cause Sam to slip along her lips, causing her to gasp and toss her head. 

“Is this turning you on, baby?” he teased. “Am I getting your pussy all worked up?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” she panted. 

“Do you want me to fill it up?” he wondered. His fingers kept grazing over her lips, pressing lightly, defly against her clit so briefly that she was left to hump against the open air.

“I…” her voice caught, choked, as he led her to his unzipped jeans, his open fly.

“Answer me…” he bit back a ‘Fiona’. “Baby. Do you want me to fill you up? You wanna feel so full you’ll never need to steal again? Hmmm?” Then he breached her with his fingers, sliding on electric heat, making her features screw up and her body undulate violently, her hand spasmodically tightening around his cock.

“Yes,” she whimpered, wiggling against his middle finger, stroking him gently with her hand. Further foreplay was entirely unnecessary for show – she had him going, and she was dripping. Sam added another finger and pulled out, tugging the crotch of her panties aside to better access her sweetness. He stroked the length from her entrance to her clit and back, repeatedly.

Then she spoke.

“But…but that’s not all I want you to fill up, daddy.”

He slid his right hand upward two fingers gently breaching her, giving her ample room to hunch on the fingers now diligently working at her clit. “What?” he breathed into her neck.

“I…don’t stop…Yes daddy,” she bit her bottom lip and spread her legs, hips grinding against the nothingness, letting go of his cock. “Please put your big cock in my ass. I need it so badly, so deep…” Sam’s right hand slid. The circles grew tighter, faster, a “so deep, so deep, _please!_ ” Then she let out a scream and stiffened, hands shooting between them to push away his wrist, humping wildly against his hand before rippling, rolling, onto her back and lying in quivering pile.

Sam watched her fall, felt her pulse, smelled her relief, and felt his need spike. He shimmied out of his jeans and pulled off his shorts, then slid in a smooth, unbroken slide over her body. Reaching between them, Sam guided himself into Fiona’s still-quivering sex.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered, rising into his touch, biting her lip, flashing him innocent, virginal eyes from the mattress. Sam started rocking himself into and out of her, which prolonged Fi’s orgasm, weakening his strong resolve, his ability to hold back. He could always show off for her later – after the flood of mental images she’d thrown at him and the scent and feeling of her sex against him, he needed to come.

Sam had forgotten to act –how to do anything but keep his dick stroking against her trembling walls. “Fuck,” he grunted, pinning her hips against his and rutting to a solid, hard juttering rhythm. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and moaned as relief washed over him, making him throb into Fi’s throbbing, forcing her walls to collapse against him and pulse. She took in his tribute with a wail and slid down the side of his face, into the safety of his neck.

“Shoot it daddy,” she muttered. “shoot it daddy shoot.” The last word ended on a high-pitched whine as he pulled out hard and thrust inside one final time, leaving them both limp and sweaty against the mattress. 

His recovery time wasn’t the same as it had been years ago. Days or years may have passed by when he thought to roll off of Fi’s body and drag himself out of the bed. He staggered toward the mirror and reached under its heavy frame. “Night, Andre,” said Sam, and flicked the switch, sealing off the connection, then disarming the camera’s battery. 

Fiona had wrapped the sheet around her lower body while he was otherwise occupied. “Do you think we convinced Andre?”

Sam chuckled, finger combing back his hair. “Are you kidding me? I’ll be you dollars to donuts right now he’s busy mopping up his jock.” He placed the camera upon the bedside table, then heaved a sigh as he pitched himself face-down onto the mattress. 

“What time is it?” Fi asked. She had already pulled off the schoolgirl skirt under the sheet, and was in the process of unbuttoning her blouse. Sam checked his Rolex. 

“Nine forty-three. We have plenty of time.”

Fiona paused, one pigtail up and one pigtail down. “Do you think he’d wait past midnight?”

“He’ll probably wait ‘til morning.” Sam pointed out, tucking his head into the space between her neck and her shoulder. “Besides, you asked for something and I didn’t deliver. And as we both know, Sam Axe always delivers.” He nibbled her earlobe. “I’m going to fuck your tight little ass.”

She shivered. “I’m not calling you daddy,” Fiona said against his lips.

“You don’t have to, sugar,” he said, and rolled her onto his back.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction uses characters from **Burn Notice** , all of whom are the property of the **USA Network**. No money was gained from the writing of this fanfiction and all are used under the strictures of of the Berne Convention.


End file.
